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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727303">Run Right into You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikogio/pseuds/nikogio'>nikogio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Scrubs (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, KIND OF I GUESS, M/M, Smut, i don’t know what do words even mean these days</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:27:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,319</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikogio/pseuds/nikogio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, Newbie, the harder you fight against quicksand, the faster you sink.”</p><p>“I know.” I nod, aware of the fact, though not quite sure of the point. “I suppose that’s why I keep letting you in.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Perry Cox &amp; John "JD" Dorian, Perry Cox/John "JD" Dorian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Run Right into You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I rub my bleary eyes and plod to the door, the insistent knocking thundering through the otherwise silent apartment. My fingers fumble momentarily with the chain latch before freeing it and pulling open the door.</p><p>Perry stands before me, eyes tinged pink with exhaustion. His shoulders slump heavily in sharp contrast to his usual, aggressively upright posture. He catches my eyes in his and nods meaningfully; I step aside to grant him entrance. He sinks into my living room couch with a muted grunt and I move to the kitchen cabinets to retrieve the cheap scotch—a bottle that I <em>definitely</em> did not buy years earlier on the off-chance that my mentor might stop by unannounced.</p><p>As fate would have it, this is the fourth visit in as many months and the iterations have assumed a routine: Perry shows up looking weary and a bit surprised to find himself here, I let him in, and we drink in relative silence on the couch until he falls asleep. I throw a blanket over him and retreat to my bedroom. In the morning, he is gone. The blanket is folded and draped neatly across the back of the couch. There is a plate of scrambled eggs on the table and a fresh pot of coffee on the counter. We see each other at work and he calls me Tiffany and the cycle begins anew a few weeks later.</p><p>The current visit underway, I grab a beer from the fridge and take both drinks to the couch. Immediately, this iteration feels different than those previous. The air is vibrating and I am awake and aware. Perry is sitting at one end of the couch, whereas he normally would settle dead-center, relegating me to the nearest chair. I hand him his glass and shudder as his fingers graze mine. I pretend he doesn’t see. He gives no indication either way.</p><p>I sit as close as I dare venture, awkwardly positioned on two halves of adjacent cushions. He lifts the glass to his lips. I raise my bottle to mine and freeze, captivated as his top lip curls inward and his throat tightens and releases. I try to convince myself that he doesn’t notice. He stares at me in a way that suggests otherwise. He doesn’t look away until I swallow. I don’t look away at all.</p><p>Eventually, I stand to fetch our requisite seconds. Perry grabs my wrist and I pause obligingly, leaning back into my seat. The cushion shifts when he instead stands to bring our empty containers to the kitchen. My skin prickles at the loss of warmth. I watch him return with our refills. My fingers squeeze his for a fleeting moment as I accept the bottle and he shudders. He knows that I see him. We lock eyes as he sits beside me, positioned uncomfortably across two cushions. His breath stings my nostrils with liquor and peppermint and heat.</p><p>Our drinks are only half gone when he takes mine and places it on the coffee table alongside his. When he leans back, he turns his hips inward and our thighs touch. I hold my breath, afraid to disturb the air that cushions the dense silence. I jump in surprise when his voice pierces it completely.</p><p>“Why do you keep letting me do this?” He is staring fiercely into my eyes, searching for something particular, I’m certain. As to what, exactly, I’m clueless. I shrug.</p><p>“I didn’t think I had much choice,” I finally sputter. The words feel wrong and I wince at hearing them.</p><p>“Newbie—“ Perry begins, a note of exasperation coloring his tone.</p><p>“—and you always look like you need it,” I add hastily. It isn’t the complete answer, but at least it’s honest.</p><p>He sighs deeply and for a moment seems ready to leave. I squirm at the thought, having never been present for that part. It suggests a finality I don’t yet wish to face. My chest lightens a bit when he speaks again.</p><p>“I’m exhausted.”</p><p>I nod and reach for the blanket, but he grabs my wrist again and continues.</p><p>“No, I don’t mean—I’m just—I don’t know if I can keep going back to that place,” he admits with a marked heaviness. I shift in my seat, desperate to meet him where he is, to keep him from regretting the moment of unprovoked vulnerability.</p><p>“Is it Kelso?” I ask softly, trying to buy time, fearing it might already be too late. He surprises me again with a small, patient shake of his head.</p><p>“It’s all of it. Kelso, Jordan, the endless stonewalling by bureaucratic morons who make it damn near impossible to actually <em>do</em> my job, let alone do it well.” His elbows dig into his knees and he buries his face into his palms. In the back of my mind I note that this is the most he’s ever spoken during any singular visit.</p><p>“You <em>do</em> do it well,” I counter. He lets out a small scoff, muffled by his hands. “Really, Doc—Perry,” I continue, “I’ve been here almost three years now and I still never get tired of watching you work.” I feel exposed, but figure he must feel more so. He lifts his head slightly and meets my eye again.</p><p>“You’ll kindly remove your lips from my ass, Newbie. I’ve long ago given up the notion of getting rid of you, so your energy might be best spent elsewhere.”</p><p>I shoot him an indignant scowl.</p><p>“If you think I stick around day after day for the berating tirades and girls’ names, let me be clear that I have a little more self-respect than that,” I assert. He raises his eyebrows in challenge. “Fine,” I concede, “but I’m working on it.” I inhale deeply, slowly, and continue.</p><p>“I meant what I said, though. You are the type of doctor I aspire to be, and I’m never more sure of that than when I’m watching you with the odds stacked against you. Which is always.”</p><p>He studies me, eyes boring into mine, his own expression blank. I continue anyhow.</p><p>“And of course you’re exhausted. I am too. I mean, how could we not be when most of the time, it feels like we’re practicing medicine in quicksand? But you know what? On the days when it’s hardest to even get out of bed, I think of you. I get up and I do it because I know you’ll be doing the same damn thing. Fighting through it harder than any of us. <em>That’s</em> what I want to be.”</p><p>He is looking at me the entire time I speak. It is terrifying and entrancing and I am just hoping I am making some semblance of sense.</p><p>“You know, Newbie, the harder you fight against quicksand, the faster you sink.”</p><p>“I know.” I nod, aware of the fact, though not quite sure of the point. “I suppose that’s why I keep letting you in.”</p><p>He narrows his eyes quizzically.</p><p>“Because sometimes the only thing that helps is knowing that there’s someone else who’s tired from the same fight.”</p><p>It is more truth, but it is still incomplete. Perry seems satisfied enough to recline a bit. But even as his arms fall to his sides, his eyes remain fixed on me and I don’t even have to look to know it.</p><p>But I don’t dare mention the other fight that exhausts me even more. The effort that goes into steadying my mind and hands when he stands too close. The energy spent worrying that I am seen, chest transparent and heart exposed, when his eyes pierce into mine. The sliver of hope that warms me whenever he shows up on these nights, that maybe this time he will say something that changes everything.</p><p>I’d already come to grips with reality, had made my peace with our unacknowledged ritual. But tonight, the air is still vibrating. Our sides are still touching. Tonight is different and my peace is dissipating. I am uneasy and I am sure he knows.</p><p>“What else are you fighting, JD?” He asks quietly, evenly.</p><p>My lungs spasm and the air within them becomes a solid mass.</p><p>“What do you mean?” I mumble, eyes fixed determinedly on the empty TV screen.</p><p>“Question’s clear, Newbie.” His voice is close now, a low rumble. It makes me shiver and my mind searches for more half-truths, but I come up empty.</p><p>“Too much,” I reply weakly, terrified both of prolonged silence and any longer answer that threatens my exposure.</p><p>Then his hand is on my thigh and I freeze completely.</p><p>“Aren’t you tired of fighting?” His breath is hot across my ear. His voice is liquid in my veins. I turn my head slowly until we are facing one another. I swallow hard and say nothing.</p><p>“Yeah,” he whispers hoarsely, our faces achingly close. “Me too.”</p><p>Our mouths do not crash together. They do not collide. We are two bodies in slow motion and inertia pulls us infinitely forward until our lips brush, catch, melt into one another’s. My hands release their leaden grip on my knees and meander across Perry’s face, then through the soft, tight curls on his head. His free hand presses gently into the back of my neck. We grip one another as though the other might disappear entirely should we move too severely. Finally, Perry pulls back just slightly and my eyes flutter open to see him gazing intently into me. My heart races but my breath is calm.</p><p>He guides me gently backwards and hovers above me just for a moment, before again claiming my mouth with his and kissing me in earnest. I shudder and pull him tightly into my chest, arms hooked around his neck. We remain entangled for a short eternity; the notion of separating provokes a visceral fear of losing a long-sought paradise.</p><p>Finally, Perry breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine, wordlessly commanding my eyes open. He breathes deeply and steadily. It is hypnotic and eviscerates all of the weight within me.</p><p>“I think I need you,” he growls.</p><p>He is certain and he is certainty.</p><p>“Me too,” I breathe.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Perry kisses me so desperately that I feel my heart stop beating, just for a moment. He pushes a hand beneath the hem of my shirt and slides it up across my chest. My vision whites out andmy other senses are liberated.</p><p>I run my fingers across his hip and feel his chest stutter against mine. A searing shock floods my stomach and it is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. His fingers squeeze gently into my lower back and I find my hips arcing upward to meet his. One of us removes my shirt and the other discards his. We stand, still caught on each other’s lips, and he pulls me by the waist toward my own bedroom. I kick the door closed behind us. Perry guides my hands to unbutton his jeans and slips his thumbs beneath my waistband. Our remaining clothes descend into a single heap as we stumble side by side onto my bed.</p><p>He lifts himself onto me and latches onto my backside to pull me upwards into him. We fall into a rhythm that is at once familiar and exhilarating. My nails dig desperately into his back and his guttural moans leave me nearly breathless. I grasp clumsily at the hair on the back of his head to separate us just enough to see the dark wanting in his eyes. I nod in assent to unasked questions and he leaves a trail of kisses, aggressive and affectionate, from the nape of my neck to each of my hips.</p><p>Hot breath billows across my groin and stomach and I struggle momentarily against the pressure building in the base of my spine. I am determined to be everything he needs tonight. He always has been for me.</p><p>He gently grabs my ankles and coaxes my legs bent at the knees. My feet plant firmly on the bed and he lifts himself to kneel between my thighs. I pull myself upward to rest on my elbows, terrified of missing a single glance that reaffirms his need for me as much as I need him.</p><p>With aching slowness and intention, Perry guides himself into me and our clouded stares lock in unified clarity. I am struggling to stay conscious as my surroundings morph into melting wax. A surreal wholeness permeates every cell and the peace and pleasure overwhelm me.</p><p>With ever-impeccable timing and startling grace, Perry leans down and kisses me with a passion that would linger beyond my final waking breath.</p><p>“You,” he breathes as he pushes into me and pulls me into him.</p><p>Stifled, then unrestrained moans echo distantly in my ears and head as I feel an agonizing completeness at the joining of our hips. Friction, speed, his scent absorbing into my skin. They are discrete and joined, synchronic and simultaneous and the tension in me rebuilds itself toward a welcoming oblivion. I feel his pace blessedly give way to urgency as curled fingers and breathy whimpers land against my neck.</p><p>The release comes in rapid, forceful, torturously waning waves until I am rubber-jointed and quivering. I thrust up into his hips, desperate to prolong an alluring pain I’d never before desired, and to pull him with me into its midst. My muscles tense around him a final time and he expels a stream of incoherent syllables, finally collapsing on top of me in a storm of breathy expletives and desperate kisses.</p><p>Perry lifts himself to roll beside me and I shiver, the frigid void he left needling my skin. Wordlessly, he wraps an arm around my waist and gathers me into the soft angles of his limbs. He knows that he is home with me, and I know that I am sheltered wherever he is. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sooo I wrote a lot of this fic 1 or 2 months ago and as usual, abandoned and then forgot about it completely. Found it the other day, liked some of it, and changed/added about half. Is any of that relative to your read? Probably not. But the intensity was somewhat unexpected and not originally the direction I had intended, so I think that’s pretty cool. I also had a good deal of fun trying out this writing style. </p><p>Title comes from some lyrics of the song “Run” by Matt Nathanson bc apparently I’m not creative enough to come up with my own titles. </p><p>Thank you as always for reading!! Very interested to hear what y’all think.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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